‘Lady,’ cried the girl, sinking on her knees, ‘dear, sweet, angel lady, you are the first that ever blessed me with such words as these, and if I had heard them years ago, they might have turned me from a life of sin and sorrow; but it is too late, it is too late!› ‘It is never too late,’ said Rose, ‘for penitence and atonement.’ ‘It is,’ cried the girl, writhing in agony of her mind; ‘I cannot leave him now! I could not be his death.’
